Radio and live performances alike— It all starts with a heartfelt exchange.

Radio Has Become More Exciting in the Email Era

You might think radio is an old medium, but in this email era, its speed is incredible. It feels like you get an immediate response. I host a program called "All Night Nippon MUSIC10" (Nippon Broadcasting System, 10:00 PM - 11:50 PM) every Monday. It's a show that plays full songs without sticking to any specific music genre. When I bring up a topic at the start of the live broadcast, replies start pouring in via email just 10 or 20 minutes later. It feels like breathing together with the listeners, an interesting experience I never had before.

Late-night radio during its heyday in the 1960s and 70s was also fascinating. We didn't think of the hosts as celebrities or famous people; it felt like us, their peers, were just sitting beside them, laughing at their silly banter. It was a time of shared enjoyment, of experiencing things together. But back then, requests and messages were sent by postcard, so looking back, there was a "time lag."

Now, though, when I hold a concert, emails start pouring into the program immediately. This year marks my 50th anniversary since debut. I held a live show on my birthday, January 18th, singing nearly 60 songs over five and a half hours. Right after that, I did a live broadcast on Nippon Broadcasting. Then, emails started arriving at the program nonstop from audience members who had been at the live show. Messages like "I'm listening to the radio on the bus back to Hiroshima right now" or "I've arrived home" came into the live studio. This was a thrilling new experience, something we never had during the heyday of late-night radio.

We get messages from a wide range of people on the show, like "I'm an 83-year-old granny" or "I'm 12 years old." We get excited too, like "Whoa, 12? Are you in middle school?" We even get messages like, "Please fill my lonely heart," from a divorced man in his fifties. Men are full of lingering feelings. To that, I replied firmly, "I'm sure the other person is happily with someone else now."

Radio is a place where you can safely exchange feelings with each listener, a place where trust can be built. So, while being careful not to overstep, I chat with them like friends.

Using every technique to sustain the singing, whether for one minute or one hour

Our generation experienced and deeply understood the "sense of shared connection" inherent in radio media earlier and more profoundly than anyone else. Many of us are from the so-called baby boomer generation, who lived through an era of fierce competition and are still vibrant, enjoying life to the fullest. There's no stiff-necked "I won't lose to the young!" attitude; we're just aging normally. It feels like the way we perceive age has completely changed from the past.

That said, of course, there are times when I get tired. Since I have no other weapons, I want to keep singing—the one thing I've been able to continue—for even one more minute, even one more hour. When I get tired, my vibrato tends to increase, and I catch myself thinking, "Oh, no." When I feel my voice straining, especially as I approach that final forte where I want to end cleanly with a "boing," I think, "This is the decisive moment." I desperately think about what technique I should use to produce a clean sound. Throughout the entire performance, thoughts like these constantly swarm in my head.

I've recorded countless songs over the years. But I still haven't found one I can truly say, "This is it, this is okay." Even when I'm not satisfied, I have to wrap up the recording for the day. I can't do any more today. Yet, I believe there's still room to grow from here. That's why I don't really want to listen to my finished singing (laughs). Even if it's a tiny detail that 100 people might not notice out of 100, I want to pursue it until I'm satisfied.

Entertainment where song and personality become one

This September, I'll be performing at the "Otona Fes: Late-Night Broadcast Festival" at Makuhari Messe alongside artists like Masashi Sada, Kōsetsu Minami, and Shigeru Izumiya—all of whom experienced the dawn of late-night broadcasting and are still active today. They're all artists with long stage careers who've built their own distinct identities, both personally and musically. Each has fascinating human depth. You feel the music begins with their individuality. And within that, their personalities and music have been refined over time to become what they are now. They're people who've entrusted their unshakable personal convictions to the central axis of music.

 

Of course, the songs themselves are major entertainment, but I believe a live performance is a complete entertainment package that includes who sings what songs and what stories they share. It's entertainment that encompasses the whole picture, including their character and individuality. That's what makes live performances so fascinating.
At a live show, the audience can really draw out that personality. I want people to hear and feel the diverse personalities of everyone performing. If you throw something at us, we'll throw it right back. A live show created together like that, by the audience and performers, becomes a series of moments deeply memorable for everyone involved.
Still only 50 years in. We'll keep pushing forward with renewed spirit.

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Pack-in Music × Say! Young × All Night Nippon Otona Fest: Late-Night Broadcast Festival
September 22nd, Makuhari Messe Makuhari Event Hall. The Late-Night Broadcast Festival returns as a concert for the first time in 46 years.